


Lend Me a Hand

by Not_a_Hobbit (Blue_Blurr)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Bruce works too hard, Clint is also not helping, Comedy, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Natasha can knit, Sam has friends, Thor likes Pop-Tarts too much, Tony Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Blurr/pseuds/Not_a_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting at Avengers Tower quickly turns to chaos, and Steve asks Bucky to help him re-establish order. Bucky, however,  responds in his own, less-than-humorous way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend Me a Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own marvel, Captain America, Pop-Tarts, or any of their affiliated characters and logos, nor do I claim to do so. All rights go to their respective creators/owners. No copyright infringement was intended. I have no personal gain from this work of fiction, monetary or otherwise.
> 
> Based on a tumblr post by the fantastic twerkinshield.

     Steve Rogers was at his wits end. He had called for a simple meeting at Stark Tower with Sam, Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers. Given that they were all adults who had been tasked with saving the world on multiple occasions, he had expected they would have behaved seriously, and not like the teenage hooligans they currently were.

     Bruce had long given up trying to corral Tony into acting his own age, and was currently sleeping with his head on the table, his arms making a bony, but comfortable pillow. An entire night’s worth of research had taken its toll on the scientist; his teammates knew the nightmare that was a sleep deprived and highly volatile Bruce Banner, so they respectfully let the man sleep.

     Thor had been splitting his time between sitting at the table exchanging tales with Sam and Clint, and toasting Pop-Tarts in the kitchen. Since the discovery of the toaster, the Norse god vowed to try all flavors of his beloved breakfast pastry after they had been roasted in the seemingly magical contraption. After he had found out that even with brute force, paper plates do not fall to the ground and shatter with the same satisfying noise that one gets from doing the same with porcelain, he had been quick to abandon the practice and simply ate his Pop-Tarts and drank coffee.

     Clint, one of the worst offenders, was perched on the back of his chair, arguing with Sam over who most resembled a bird, and occasionally throwing packets of sugar or artificial sweetener and balled up paper straw wrappers at Tony. Once or twice he had tried to engage Bucky in a conversation, but he had been met with short, monosyllabic answers, so he had instead focused on trying to elicit a response from Natasha.

     When it had become apparent that the meeting had gone to hell and was unlikely to some back anytime soon, Natasha had silently excused herself to her room and grabbed her latest knitting project; a winter hat for Bucky. It was to be all black, with a red star and pom-pom, and made with a thick soft yarn meant to keep one warm and cozy. While they had all been conscious not to wear or buy things with a star print (especially so if it were red) at first, lest it should upset Bucky or trigger painful memories, he had assured them that he was perfectly okay with the shape and had considered it a favorite since childhood.

     Between denying Clint the pleasure of a response and tuning out Tony, Natasha had made significant process with the hat and figured she would have it finished in time for the man’s birthday the following week. However, her project was interrupted when a packet of artificial sweetener entered her vision. Striking the offending object down, she sent a glare in Clint’s direction, as well as one of her spare knitting needles; one whose tip was curiously much sharper than necessary.

     Sam laughed uncontrollably as Clint let out a yelp and fell from his perch in an ungraceful heap. The ex-paratrooper had gone into the tower expecting to feel like an outsider, but instead found kindred spirits. Clint was already close enough to exchange banter with, and Thor seemed like someone he could easily befriend. Tony was just as arrogant in person as he was on television, but in contrast, Bruce, for the brief moment he was conscious, seemed quiet and polite compared to his monstrous alter ego.

     Tony was the worst of them by far. The billionaire had brought out the box of straws and sweeteners from which he and Clint were drawing ammo for their miniature war. Additionally, he was cracking bird jokes at both Clint and Sam, and the occasional spider joke at Natasha. Twice he had J.A.R.V.I.S. play music, only to be stopped the first time by Steve, and Natasha the second and final time, who reminded them that Bruce was still sleeping and would quickly turn his wrath -and possibly that of the Hulk- to them if he should be woken in such a way. Tony instead had begun to taunt Steve, asking if he had caught up to the modern age yet and listing more useless topics for him to research. A couple of such suggestions had been aimed at Bucky as well, but again he gave only short answers and stayed out of the conversation, preferring to keep to himself whilst sitting at the bar and observing the meeting from afar.

     Clearly not gaining what he wanted, Tony then decided to include others in the war between him and Clint -though he went out of his way to avoid Natasha, Bruce, and Bucky. Steve’s final straw was entirely obliterated when the genius managed to catapult a packet of sugar into his coffee, splashing the still-hot beverage onto his clean, white shirt. With carefully suppressed rage, but endless exasperation, he cleared his throat and yelled:

          “Would you please just stop?” his voice was raised, causing the others to pause briefly to hear him out. “I called this meeting today because we had something crucial to discuss, and yet here we are, acting no better than a group of rowdy teenagers!”

     Natasha gave Steve a sympathetic smile, Clint shrugged, Sam ducked his head apologetically, Thor attempted to apologize, but quickly realized his mouth was full and decided against it, Bucky sipped a his coffee, Bruce snored softly, and Tony stared at Steve for a long moment before tossing a straw wrapper at Clint, who quickly returned fire. The room then erupted back into chaos.

     Sam had taken Clint’s place in the war, as the archer had finally succeeded in angering Natasha and was being forced to seek cover from various pieces of unusually sharpened knitting supplies. Thor had just discovered the sheer magic that was toasted chocolate chip Pop-Tarts and was loudly proclaiming how Asgard had nothing equal to their greatness. Bruce slumbered on, oblivious to his surrounding and the growing pile of straw wrappers that now gathered around him. Steve had reached the point of desperation.

          “Guys!” he called, only to be ignored. He turned to Bucky, his eyes pleading more than his voice ever could.

          “Bucky, could I have some help here?” he asked. But the soldier would receive no sympathy for his best friend.

          “No, I’m not getting involved in this.” He brought his coffee to his lips. Steve huffed in annoyance.

          “Come on, how old are all you?” he called, to which Tony could not help but retort:

          “How old are you and Mr. Antisocial over there?” which earned a hearty laugh from Thor, a chuckle from a still fleeing Clint, a sigh from Sam, and a glare from Natasha. A small growl left the Captain’s throat.

          “Bucky, give me a hand here!” Steve cried. No more than three seconds later, something rather heavy landed on the table in front of Steve.

     It was Bucky’s prosthetic arm. He had taken Steve’s request too literally, detached his arm, and thrown it to his best friend. Bucky successfully stifled a grin by obscuring his mouth with his cup of coffee. Following a brief moment of stunned silence from everyone except a confused and now awake Bruce, who was asking the reason as to why he was covered in paper straw wrappers, Clint burst into laughter. Sam and Thor soon followed. Tony’s eyes lit up like those of a child in a toy shop and leapt to examine the arm, only to be slapped away from it by both Bruce and Natasha. Tony then began to complain loudly, but was scolded by the scientist and assassin.

     Much to the billionaire’s protest, Steve scooped up the metal limb from the table, and stomped over to his best friend. Holding the limb in his right hand and pointing to it with his left, he shot an accusatory glance a Bucky.

          “I’d almost expect it from one of _them_ ,” he nodded to the other Avengers, who were committing various acts of terror against each other, “But just why would _you_ do that?” Bucky grinned from ear-to-ear with a smile so bright it could have easily lit up half of New York.

          “You asked for a hand, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edits made on 4/20: minimal edits to the actual fic, (mostly spelling and grammar issues I must have missed) but I completely re-wrote the summary; it displeased me. Holy cow, this fic is a year old in two days. Time flies.


End file.
